


The Colours of Autumn

by Nelarun



Series: Autumns Grace [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, F/M, Land of Dyes, No Uchiha Massacre, Romance, Snapshots, Tea House
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2020-09-23 07:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20336545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelarun/pseuds/Nelarun
Summary: He was a child of the sun, a servant of fire. She was a daughter of the moon, a friend to water. Colours of blue and green, flashes of a life that could never be. All they wanted was peace, but they were born to blood and fire, crafted to be blades in the dark. What did they know of peace? The gods sighed and breathed the wind of change. Maybe this time they would get the happy ending they deserved.





	1. Floating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Awnyaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awnyaa/gifts), [LitaJ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LitaJ/gifts).

His dreams were rarely peaceful, filled with the evils he committed during his waking hours, so this was strange. He was dead. He had tasted the poison on her lips, she had whispered to him that she wanted peace and he _knew_ what that meant. Peace for a shinobi was death and he had wanted that too, he had held her and kept calm as the poison surged through his system, whispering that he wanted to sleep, to just sleep. And so he did.

For a time there was darkness and then he found himself floating on a cloud in the darkness. He didn't know how long he floated for but eventually he heard voices. At first he thought it was the voices of the dead, whispering all around him, crying his sins for the gods to hear and he knew judgment was coming. But then they faded and nothing happened. He remained floating. A loud sharp noise and still nothing. More voices, a trickle of water on his forehead, whispers of tears on his cheek.

There was a time when he thought he was moving, but that was impossible, he couldn't move. He tried desperately to move but it was like he was caught in a genjutsu that paralysed him. He tried to violently alter his chakra, but he couldn't even do that. It was sluggish to respond and settled with a purr like one of the ninbyo that found a patch of sun and would refuse to move until dusk. He still thought he was moving. Perhaps he was and he just didn't realise it. 

Solitude had always been a comfort, even as a child. Oh he enjoyed his family and his cousins, but he didn't like much else. He enjoyed training alone, reading, sharpening blades, meditating. All solitary activities that he had relished. But now he wanted someone, _anyone_, even his little brother's annoying teammates. Turns out he only liked solitude when it was done on his terms, not when the terms were dictated to him. 

He wondered what his family were doing. If they had mourned for him. He wondered if they had oiled his body and wreathed it in sacred flames. He wondered what they had done to her. Did they mourn her knowing that he loved her? Did they understand the loss that had occurred? Would they force more children who loved peace into war and bloodshed because it was expected of them and they would do their duty? 

_Sleep. _

He thought that this was the underworld. He was in Yomi and would remain here until he went mad.

It was fitting really.

No genjutsu could hold him like this. Not for this long. 

He was dead. He had been judged without ever meeting the gods and they had sent him from their courts to the underworld to atone for his sins. 

He thought that he would at least have gotten a chance at rebirth. One turn on the wheel was all he needed. He wouldn't come back as anything good but maybe he wouldn't be born into a shinobi clan again. Anything else would be a blessing. He wondered if that was why the gods had sent him to Yomi.

And then he heard her. Her voice was muffled and he couldn't make out the words, but it was her. She was here with him. He railed. This was truly Yomi, to hear the woman he loved but be unable to reach out to her, words refused to leave his lips. How could he stand such torment? But stand it he would. Her voice was a balm, it kept him sane as much as it tormented him.

Time passed, he wasn't sure how long he waited, straining to hear her voice, until one day he heard her as though she lay beside him, her words clear. _Come back to me. Please. I'm sorry. I am so sorry._

Her words cut. How could she apologise for this? He wanted to die with her. He wanted to stop the endless cycle of hatred and fear and mistrust. He wanted to hold her forever and keep her safe from any who would want to harm her. Why would she apologise?

More water on his forehead, more voices, not just hers, but he didn't care about them. He didn't try to focus or listen to what they had to say, his only concern was his love, and she didn't speak as often now. Rather she did, but her words did not make sense. She spoke of moving, of finding work and how he would hate her for what she did, but it brought in coin. She spoke of forging travel documents, a history for them. There was laughter in her voice as she said that no one would recognise her now, not even her closest friends. She was so far removed from the creature she had been that sometimes she had to stop and stare in wonder at what she had become.

He was tired now. She hadn't spoken to him for a while, but he was tired at the thought that she thought he could ever hate her. Whatever she had done he could forgive. They were shinobi, he was certain that he had done far worse. But he couldn't reach her, he couldn't even speak. So he lay in the darkness and listened.

_It's okay. I know you're tired. Rest. Recover your strength. I'll be here when you wake. I love you. _

He didn't care if they saw his tears. She loved him. She loved _him_. He couldn't cheer so he cried. It wasn't good for a shinobi to cry – it was considered a weakness, but he could hear his mother whispering in his ear as she held him after a non-clan friend died. “Sometimes when the heart is full, our emotions will escape through our eyes.” At the time his heart was full of rage and grief, but this time he was filled with joy. He felt like he could sing.

If only he could open his mouth.

The other voices were back, clearer than they had ever been. _He's fine, just sleeping._

_He's dead. I'm calling the priests._

_No! _

There was silence and then she swore. A single word sharpened by frustration. He frowned, wanting to know what she had done. _It's okay. It will be okay. Rest._

The voices were gone, she was also gone.

He was lonely.

…_wake__upwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup..._

_Please._


	2. Running

She was four when she had her first vision, the same nightmare for weeks: a man not of the Clan in her bedroom, leaning over her, knocking her out and throwing her over his shoulder, her father giving chase and killing him in the streets, Hokage-sama demanding that they just give in to the unreasonable demands, reminding them that Konoha could not afford another war with Kumo, and really the least they could have done was put the body back in the compound if they wanted to avoid this nonsense all together.

She remembered the moon, the positions of the stars. She sketched them out for her mother who had consulted the charts, murmured her prayers and brought Hinata to her futon in secret, shukusen in hand, ready for any who could dare to harm her child. Hinata had slept and woken the next morning to the Kumo delegation being expelled from the village. Immediately the entire Clan knew that Hinata would be the next head, regardless of her fighting prowess. She was a Seer and that was more valuable than a thousand silver mines.

She nearly had to die to have her second one. It wasn't that uncommon actually, people would put themselves in near death states in order to free their spirit and let it see the future. Hinata thought they were fools, no one should risk their life for a glimpse of an uncertain future. But she watched the flashes of the vision, swirling colours, cries of thanks for the harvest, a looming statue of a fox, Neji pushing Hanabi in her training, and then herself weeping over a body, the sudden warmth of blood on her hand, lamenting the ruination of another kimono. _Hush love, they think you're blind_. And then nothing.

Hinata opened her eyes and saw the carved wooden panels that made up the ceiling of the preparation room in the Temple. She was wearing the white kimono of the dead, someone had woven white flowers in her hair and she smiled faintly. Hanabi, for all her natural talent with the shinobi arts, was a gentle touch. The room was dark and empty but for the sacred smoke that wreathed the ornaments in the Temple. She could hear the monks teaching the children too young to go to the Academy without a Clan, or from civilian families. The ringing of the small bells sounded as people came to pray. A senior priest was teaching acolytes the rituals while others tended the fruit and vegetable gardens. And to her right lay Itachi.

Seeing him lying there she could understand why the Uchiha had fan clubs across the country. Itachi was beautiful. Finely boned, porcelain skin, dark hair. He was like a spirit. She crossed the room, unsteady on her feet until her chakra purged the last of the poison from her system, and leaned over Itachi. He wasn't waking. Strange. The dosage had been correct – poison and antidote both – so why was he still sleeping? She looked towards the closed doors, suddenly thankful that they were in a shinobi village.

Shinobi mourned in private or at the grave, they didn't hold a vigil the way civilians did, and the Hyuuga had provided the carvings around the room, many holding seals to block surveillance. Mourning was private after all and those farewelling the dead should have that decency provided to them. But that didn't mean that the doors would remain closed forever. She looked out of the carved wooden screens over the windows and saw the sun reaching for the trees. Their window for a relatively safe and unseen escape was rapidly closing and Itachi's preference to stay asleep was making this impossible.

She couldn't wait.

She wouldn't leave him.

It was hard. It was slow. She removed a wooden screen, stole Itachi from the table, reached out with chakra to the large jar containing scented oil, violently threw it across the room and it shattered, fragrant oil seeping into wood and covered all scents. Hinata replaced the screen, picked Itachi up and stole into the shadows carrying a dead weight on her back, following standard patrol routes before she veered away, heading for Konoha's border and the end of everything.

She stopped beside a tree, setting Itachi down. They were in the middle of the forest, no markers, nothing to differentiate this part of the forest from any other and most people would think nothing of the tree she stood beside, but she knew better. This was one of the boundary markers. This was the point of no return, the point where she should cut Konoha from her life. Once she passed this tree, she would have nothing – no clan, no friends, no teacher. Any Konoha-nin who met her in the future would be duty bound to kill her, or at the very least report her position to someone who could.

Itachi didn't have a choice in this, she was kidnapping him, forcing him away from his own family whom he loved so much. When his mother was ill, he had requested leave and secluded himself in the house with her, There was so much pride in his voice when he spoke of Sasuke's letters from Hishin, his eyes shined with amusement as he recalled the times he had walked into the house to find his father acting like a child and playing with the ninbyo. He would never be able to see them again. What if he didn't want this?

Of course he wanted this. He hadn't killed her when the poison took her first. He could have ended it. He didn't know that she had given him the antidote, he could have called her bluff, slaughtered her and then waited for death to claim him. But he hadn't. He wanted peace and a lifetime together too, so she took a deep breath, listened to the forest, there was a patrol a while away, a fox hole with kits playing around the mouth, some deer further along, and beyond that, freedom. She picked him up, begged him to forgive her and sped away.

The farmer saw an old lady, bent over and hobbling along the road. He stopped the cart, asked her where she was headed and helped her into the back. She reached out with a shaking hand and thanked him for his generosity. He smiled and continued into town. “Grandmother,” he called. “We're here. Let me-” the old woman was gone, none of his produce was disturbed, it was as though she had never been there. When he told his story to the tax collector from Hishin the man scoffed at his tale and called him a superstitious fool, the shinobi eating a needle watched him as though trying to work out if he was telling the truth before he calmly dismissed him, turning away.

Hinata played the spirit a few more times whenever she was too tired to carry Itachi, always a different guise, always a different story, when she noticed that people were starting to look for her, she turned away from the road once more and headed for the forest. She vaguely remembered that there was an old shrine here. The shrines and temples would give shinobi sanctuary for a night so long as they also spent part of that night in penance. She needed the rest badly enough that she was willing to spend the night in prayer and risk being found out by other shinobi who sheltered there.

Rotting wood, broken tiles, toppled guardians and tori. The shrine had been abandoned long ago and she was superstitious enough to wonder if it was wise tempting the rage of whatever spirit could do this to an Inari shrine? A part of her wondered if it didn't have something to do with the Kyuubi. While contained to Konoha, the story of the Kyuubi's rampage had spread across the country and worship of Inari, who used divine foxes as his messengers, became taboo and driven to the darkness of religion. The cult of Inari was a secret and feared organisation whose members were persecuted and enslaved to toil in rice fields and to grow sake and to make businesses prosper.

Still, the shrines usually remained untouched. Superstitious citizens feared Inari sending the Kyuubi after any village who desecrated his shrine. She whispered for Inari's blessing as she crept inside the shamusho, carefully treading over broken floorboards and moldy papers that once detailed the shrines administrative records, set Itachi's body down in a dry space and hurried to collect rain water, needing to keep him clean and free from road dust. She paused near the temizuya, there were no wooden dippers, the stone basins the stream trickled into were filthy, and as tired as she was, as much as she needed to see to Itachi, she hoped for Inari's blessing – if only to sleep through the night.

Sleeves secured and pilfered cleaning supplies in hand, Hinata scrubbed the basins until the stone gleamed. She looked around and righted the statues of the fox spirits, promising to clean them tomorrow. They weren't in the right place, but it was better than having them in the dirt. Finally she employed an e-rank doton jutsu to smooth over the ground. If villagers still came to view the shrine, let them think this the work of the spirits. (Had she looked closely, she would have seen two little white foxes peering out from behind the statues, watching her, little balls of fire hovering anxiously above them). 

The hours passed, the grey light of day filtered through the clouds turned into the dark of night and Hinata felt uneasy going to sleep. The shrine was run down but welcoming, she hoped Inari appreciated her offering, but she couldn't rest certain that hunters were following them. Konoha must have discovered their missing bodies by now. She wondered if the Hokage would have let their clans know – most likely both would have been confined to their respective compounds. Would Hokage-sama have ordered their disappearance covered up? Are there currently two bodies burning on a funeral pyre to keep peace in Konoha. It's what she would have done. But then she would have immediately ordered hunters and trackers out to find out what really happened. She hoped the downpour would erase any tracks she had left behind, or if it didn't, that the hunters would at least have the decency to allow Itachi to wake up and have a taste of freedom before they were dragged back for execution.

Hinata watched rain dripping into the bucket she had found and frowned when she saw a drop of water running across the ceiling and dripping onto Itachi's face. As she watched his eyes opened and suddenly she froze. He was looking at the roof, not even flinching as the rain fell on his face. “Itachi?” He didn't respond, didn't even react to her presence. “Itachi?” She crawled over to him and touched his hand. Not even a twitch. She leaned over him, his eyes didn't focus on her. She moved to slap him, he didn't move to stop her. His eyes were open but he wasn't there.

_Horror. Fear. Rage. Grief._

She'd killed him. She'd gotten the dosage wrong and his body was alive but his mind was gone. She wept, screaming her rage to the sky, begging the gods to give him back to her. They didn't respond.

Sitting by their statues, two white foxes watched her grief before they turned and disappeared into the forest. Hidden in the Honden, Inari's visage glowed white, quietly answering her prayer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, a cat crossed my path and demanded head scratches (not even joking, I was house sitting for a friend and her cat is the most affectionate but needy cat I've ever met. I adore her!), and then I was hit by an extremely bad bout of bronchitis that was inches away from being pneumonia (thank you asthma attack), and THEN I drove 18 hours each way to visit dad for father's day (on the way home I drove through a mountain range an hour before the fireys closed off the highway due to an out of control bushfire, I could see the smoke for the next 400kms) and his wifi and my laptop weren't talking to each other. :(. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience! 
> 
> It's not going to be entirely lovey dovey for a few more chapters. There are some consequences that they're going to have to deal with, but I have faith in these two. :).


	4. NOT AN UPDATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An explanation to the delay

Hi all,

I just wanted to apologise for the sudden delay in posting. Unfortunately I've been seriously unwell (in an out of hospital) due to asthma complications from dust storms and bushfire smoke. 

My part of Australia has been burning since August and it doesn't look like it's going to settle any time soon. The bureau of meteorology doesn't even think we're going to see any rain until February which is sobering. 

Annyways. My hope is that over the Christmas shutdown period (christmas day to new years), I'll be able to focus on finishing the edits to the story and will have everything posted. 

Apologies for the delay! I'll see you soon with an actual chapter. 

Thank you for your patience. 

Nela.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was rereading all the lovely reviews and suddenly got inspired, because it turns out that I also want them to have a happy ending! So Awnyaa, LitaJ, this is for you. 
> 
> Everything happens the same as in Autumns Grace except for the last two chapters. 
> 
> I'm going to attempt daily updates but I make no promises.
> 
> Enjoy!


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